


People You May Know

by mrspotatohead



Category: Phandom, Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety Attacks, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Repressed, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Phanfiction, Phil Lester - Freeform, Protectiveness, Rape, Rape Recovery, Sad, Sadism, Triggers, YouTube, idk why i wrote this honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 06:50:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5487743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrspotatohead/pseuds/mrspotatohead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>dan has a panic attack when a repressed memory resurfaces. (phan.)</p><p>triggers: rape, violence, non con.</p>
            </blockquote>





	People You May Know

I have been an avid user of Facebook for many years.

It's a popular site - it's how I keep up to date with everything and everyone. I check it daily. I check it as soon as I wake up, while I'm on the train, on my lunch break at work. It's a natural part of my every day routine, something I usually don't have to think twice about.

Which is why I think I should have been more prepared than I was for it, for what happened. 

It was late, that's the first thing I remember.  Around 3AM, maybe even a little later. The city was quiet, lights from the empty clubs and the windows of small apartments and the bright stars illuminating the landscape - I think I remember this because it was a serenely beautiful sight, all quiet and glowing. It was the calm before the storm, in a way. I had been admiring it as I browsed the internet lazily, not bothering to close the blinds or the curtains so I could enjoy the view.

I was on my laptop - scrolling through Tumblr, soft music blaring through my headphones - a normal Sunday night. Phil had gone to bed, I was almost falling asleep on the sofa, my eyes drooping every few minutes with fatigue; I was relaxed, and warm and safe. I felt better than I had in a while, but all it took was an instant for the facade to come crumbling down. 

_Click._

I changed the tab, opened Facebook and let my eyes glide down the automatic suggestion list: _People You May Know_. 

The song blasting through my headphones finished abruptly, leaving a ringing silence in its wake. 

His smiling face, seething at me through the screen, grinning, laughing, _leering._ I felt the blood in my veins freeze, the fire of anxiety in my stomach ignite painfully. I closed my eyes but the backs of my eyelids were painted with his image. An avalanche of thoughts - unstoppable, destructive, sudden. No matter what I did, I couldn't distract myself from it, from him. 

My heart was pounding, my fingers shaking as something seemed to pull me towards his profile, the memories of a dark summer night six months ago pushing themselves to the forefront of my thoughts. I could not stop them, nothing could stop them as they dragged me down into the murky depth of flashbacks and terror and humiliation. I was scared; a black knife of fear dug harshly into my heart.

_Click._

His name filled my screen and I remembered a dank but popular night club. I remembered dancing, the alcohol burning my throat as I smiled up at him, feeling his abs press against my back. He was tall - his green eyes piercing and enticing, his skin pale and translucent under the luminous lights, dangerous and hungry. His hair, dark blonde, gelled back perfectly, not a bit out of place. I was in awe of his beauty in that short moment. I thought that I wanted him and that was my fucking mistake.  

Another click and I'm scrolling down his timeline, him with his family, him with his lover, him on holiday, and then suddenly I remembered him holding me down in the unsanitary bathroom, him telling me to _shut up you fucking whore_ him telling me _you want this you want me you fucking deserve this._ I remembered the music from the club, some wailing pop song, now muffled behind a wall as I screamed out the insistent word _no no no_ over and over again like a demented record. Nobody heard me. A building full of people, a town full of people and nobody heard me. If they did, they didn't bother to investigate because nobody comes running for boys who cry rape. 

I was under his fingernails for fifteen minutes and now he is under my skin forever. 

I continued scrolling. It was exactly like a car crash, just as tragic, just as horrific. I couldn't look away, no matter how much the logical part of my mind screamed at me, begged me to exit the browser I found I simply couldn't. My eyes were trained on him, a dashing son, friend, brother.  A free man, still out there, still living, still happy. 

There was choked sobs in the back of my throat, my eyes were filled with tears that I refused to let spill, my whole body numb. My mind filled with _him_ just as it had that night, that night that ruined me, that night that I was _raped._  

I hadn't been the same since. Someone couldn't even touch my shoulder without causing me to flinch, I no longer went to clubs or drank, my mother could not look me in the eye for two months when she found out. I was a _victim_. I was afraid all of the time and it wouldn't stop. He had destroyed me and everything good and innocent that I was. 

And there _he_ was, tanned and clean shaven like he'd just enjoyed a vacation to a sunny beach, there he was unharmed and successful and indifferent about the fact that he raped me like I meant nothing, the fact that he used me and then threw me away like I was worthless, he _made_ me worthless. He didn't care because he didn't _have_ to. It's not his problem, he thought I was asking for it, he was safe from the shameful forces of Being A Rape Victim. He had not been soiled like I had.

I felt myself let out a strangled scream and wondered if it would be like that night, that night when nobody heard me cry out. I was burning up, the laptop which had been placed on my knees had been discarded to the floor as I paced the living room, my breathing uneven and ragged and weighed down by the burden of my own existence, my own experiences. Something that felt a lot like guilt and shame and _uncleanliness_ settled in my stomach, making me feel as if a layer of grime lay just under my skin, never to be cleaned away.

My knees buckled and I remembered the worst parts of it, my hands wringing together with the anxiety of it, my brow shining with sweat. 

I remembered when I told my mother and she sobbed for two hours straight, screaming out in awful choked howls that still haunted my dreams. I remembered when I told my friend and she laughed and took it as a joke because _boys can't get raped_ and when I told my therapist and he asked me if I was drunk and if I had led him on and given him consent but I just couldn't remember doing it. I remembered when I told Phil and he held me until I felt like it was going to be okay. He held me forever. 

I was vaguely aware that I was on the floor, the ground soaked with my warm, salty tears which I couldn't hold back anymore. My hands cradled my head as I tried to block it out, push it down, _stop it, stop it, stop it._

I heard the door open and saw bare feet rushing towards me, but my brain did not register the sight properly, couldn't because of _Him_ and even six months later he still had a hold over me, he was still pushing me down. He was just one stranger in some random night club and yet he turned me into something that I could scarcely even recognize and it wasn't  _fucking_ fair. 

I heard soft whispers of _oh my god, Dan_ , and _are you okay? talk to me,_ a flick of hope leaping in my stomach when I realized it was Phil. My mind spinning chaotically as I felt his gentle, cool hands cupping my face, the smell of mint and shower gel invading my nostrils as I breathed in the safety of him, of my best friend, who would never, ever hurt me.

My best friend who had blue eyes, like the sea and fresh glaciers and bright summer skies and not green, like a serpent, like bruised wrists and distrust, like _him._

"Phil, please - " I was panicking, trying to think of something else, anything else but I couldn't. I couldn't breathe. I was drowning.

"Dan, dan - Calm down, yeah? You're okay, you're fine," Phil was soft and secure and he was saying all of the right things but my mind would not let my body draw fresh breath. Something bleak and black was choking me from the inside out.

A short while passed, Phil hugging me and comforting me as I curled in on myself, a lone figure laying on a hard floor. I could still feel the buzzing under my skin which reminded me that I was an impure person. Incomplete, wrong. My eyes stung with fresh tears but I was determined not to let them fall. I didn't want to be weak, didn't want to let my guard down even for a second.

Eventually, I managed to control and compose myself enough to really open my eyes, and I saw Phil, leaning down next to me. I knew he had been through every tactic in the book when trying to pull someone out of a panic attack; there was a sheen of sweat on his pale forehead and his gaze blazed with concern. I felt bad for being a burden on him, on his life. He would have been asleep if it wasn't for me. My therapist told me the rape wasn't my fault but I knew that the pain in Phil's eyes was undoubtedly caused by me, knew it down to my fucking bones. A river of self hate exploded in my heart, a powerful tsunami of searing doubt washing over me, making it hard to breathe all over again. 

I sat up slowly, the room span and stars danced in front of my eyes, brighter than the ones outside in the clear velvet night sky. Phil handed me a cold cup of water and it soothed my throat, which was raw from screaming and sobbing and begging. My cheeks flared with embarrassment and warmth, and I found I couldn't look anywhere but my shaking hands. 

"I'm sorry - I," I coughed harshly, trying to sound coherent.

He waited patiently, silently, with his head titled to one side. My chest ached at how familiar he was to me.

"I know I should be over it by now," I continued, my voice barely a whisper. I knew he would know what I was talking about immediately. He fixed me with a gently insistent glare and shook his head, squeezing my hand tightly in reassurance. It felt good. 

"I will never expect you to be _over_ it," he sounded so sure, so solid and so comforting that it made me want to start crying again, but for an entirely new reason. He stood up suddenly and reached for my laptop, not flinching at the profile on the screen. He slammed it shut, almost breaking it in the process, and I felt my body relax more than it had in months. The truth hit me like a ton of breaks, and it was suddenly all so clear in my head: one person had the power to break me and one person has the power to help glue me back together, but the only person that could really _save_ me was myself. 

When I slept in a tight embrace with Phil that night I did not have any nightmares and when I awoke the next morning the weight on my shoulders was still there though it was a bit lighter. 

For the first time, I did not feel like a victim. 

**Author's Note:**

> this was a rly serious and angsty fic that was inspired by the slam poem 'People You May Know'.
> 
> i wanted to write about it even though I don't think I did it justice but I hoped you liked it. comments and kudos are appreciated.


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